


Carving out Destiny

by AnOddSock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Bottom Castiel, Branding, Burns, Caretaking, Chains, Confinement, Demons Are Assholes, Established Relationship, Gags, Hand Jobs, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Serious Injuries, Spit As Lube, Suspension, Tattoos, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/pseuds/AnOddSock
Summary: Weeks after they are captured by a random no-name demon with a very twisted agenda, Cas is just as helpless as ever. He does what he can for Sam and Dean, gives them what relief is possible, and waits for the day he can repay the pain caused and strike the demon down.





	Carving out Destiny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Djtmusings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djtmusings/gifts).



> Kinktober  
> 21\. ~~Bukakke | Food play~~ | **Suspension | Branding**
> 
> Djtmusings prompted this:
> 
> Kinktober: 21 suspension wincestiel, Bonus if you can also work branding in (tattoo, scarring or hot iron) -co or noncon your choice (you’re great at both). Who is suspended/branded is also up to you. Please? 
> 
> The kinks in this one got a little swallowed up by plot but I hope its still enjoyable!

Cas watched as the demon finished his work for the day. He stayed silent, as always, there was no point trying to make noise or be a distraction, it just made it worse.

Worse for them both.

Sam and Dean.

Whoever this crazy demon was, however wild his idea, he fully believed it to be his life’s purpose — a worthy cause. But if he got angry he wasn’t afraid to let it show and Cas refused to be the cause of more pain.

Dean was almost fully suspended now, and he was breathing hard but holding still. Fighting didn’t help when he couldn’t actually move enough to do any damage. It was a mercifully easy suspension today, no twisted limbs taking too much strain, no almost impossible stretching or pulling.

Most of his weight was held by wide canvas straps underneath his torso, hips, and legs. If he was on the ground he’d be laid out flat on his belly, as it was he floated four feet in the air, hovering in place. His arms and legs were restrained but not taking any pressure.

The less merciful part was that he was suspended directly over his brother, able to see all the damage Sam had taken that day, see the blood and the cuts and the grimace of pain. And Dean’s own blood would slip in rivulets from his back, roll down his body to drip onto Sam.

It was easier in some ways, harder in others.

Nothing had been easy for any of them in countless days.

Cas willed the demon to be done soon, to go, to leave them in peace for the remainder of the day.

It’s… work, was done. If you could call it work. Cas twisted his hands and waited, no point worrying. He’d see the new damage for himself soon enough. His own needs were a background annoyance, barely worth thinking about. He couldn’t access his grace, if he could they wouldn’t be stuck here enduring this, but besides that he couldn’t think of himself.

The demon ran his hands over Dean’s prone form, tightening the straps and checking the pull of the chains. Dean bore it all with barely a grunt, flinching minutely when his sore back got jostled and the wide cuffs around his upper arms were tightened, but stoic. He rocked in the bindings with a gentle sway as he breathed. It drew Cas's attention, a false gracefulness hiding pain and degradation.

To avoid further anger showing on his face he turned his attention to Sam, and he didn’t like how still Sam was being, how quiet. He’d been checked out for days now with pain overwhelming him. Sadness crept into Castiel's mind, worry clouding everything else.

“We’re getting there, you’ll be exactly as you should be soon enough, it’s all coming together.” the demon said. He finished with the last of Dean’s restraints and returned to check Sam one final time.

“Don’t touch him!” Dean snarled.

The demon looked Dean in the eye and plunged two fingers into a fresh wound on Sam’s shoulder. A choking gurgle was all that Sam could manage but Dean rocked more forcefully as he growled curses and insults.

The demon laughed.

Cas glared at him as he walked over, unable to do much else. The metal contraption like a muzzle on his face reduced him to nothing more than growls and hums. He’d tried to wrench it open for days after their capture, but it was welded shut. It had been agony as the heated metal dripped onto his face but that pain seemed long ago. He’d grown used to the thick metal rod that sat on his tongue, to not being able to stretch his jaw or open his mouth. But he could never come to terms with being incapable of speech and unable to effectively comfort the brothers.

“Ready to clean them up, little pet?”

Cas nodded. If he didn’t act cordially he’d be left out of reach of them, unable to help at all.

The chains holding him by the corner wall, the small space he’d come to think of as _his_ , were snapped open.

“Be a good boy and look after your charges.” the demon ruffled his hair and walked away.

They all listened for the telltale clang of the closing door and then Cas scurried up, scrambling to reach them as fast as he could.

“Hey,” Dean said as Cas drew close, his hands hovering but unwilling to touch.

Cas hummed his acknowledgment.

“S’not so bad today, check him.” Dean’s voice gave him away, thin with pain, but Cas had learned to do what he said so he would settle and not hurt himself further. The smell of burned flesh was stronger once Cas was near them. But it was all Dean had been put through today, no cuts or tattoos.

Cas crouched by Sam and gently touched his head, brushing his hair back. Sam twitched, and opened one eye briefly.

“How bad?” he croaked.

It would be a tough question to answer, but Dean took over.

“Oh, you’ve never looked better Sammy, prime of health, brimming with life.”

Sam cracked half a smile, and wheezed out a little laugh. “Sure.”

“Not as good as me obviously, tellin’ ya, I could still win a modelling contest.”

“How would you win?”

Cas let them talk, let them banter and distract each other, as he put his hands to good use. The shackle round his ankle had a chain long enough to reach the water tap, there was a handful of rags and cloths piled beside it. He wetted a couple, and picked up some dry ones, and took them over.

He patted Sam on the cheek twice, his signal that he was about to do something and began methodically wiping away the blood. In places it still oozed thickly out and Cas pressed down hard to stem the flow. Sam gasped in pain, jolting against the chains pinning him down, but it needed doing.

Cas looked at Dean and watched a tear slip down his cheek. They held a silent conversation, how much more could Sam take? What if his body gave out?

With Dean it was easy to see the demon's plan and imagine it complete. It was agony for him, but it was surface wounds, a network of scars, burns, and black ink that spread across his back in a recognisable pattern. Dean was supposed to be the vessel of Michael, an archangel, and the demon planned to make it known - to carve, mark, and burn wings into Dean and show off his supposed destiny, and make him a spectacle.

It was why Dean was suspended in chains and ropes everyday, flying above the earth, in his place. Or at least in a mockery of it.

Mostly the demon wanted them to suffer, to be brought low and beg, but even then he wouldn’t stop. He was going to finish his work, and then sell the brothers off to whoever wanted them, new bodies and all.

Dean, the essence of Michael.

And Sam, the essence of Lucifer.

With Sam his idea was harder to discern, some days Cas didn’t think he had a plan at all. He just carved, slicing slender shapes out of Sam, sometimes patching them back in other places. He branded Sam with shapes and runes too, so his entire upper body was a mess of raw skin and exposed muscle.

And he was always chained immobile to the ground. If Dean was suspended and flying, Sam was grovelling in the dirt and down nearest hell. Sometimes contorted and made to kneel, other times face down and spread wide, or like today just held in place on his back.

Dean resumed trying to banter with Sam but his voice was cracking.

Cas hummed, telling Dean he’d be with him soon to try and make it better, just hold on a little longer. He liked humming to them, he murmured his way through song after song all day for them, giving them something to focus on.

“What do you think Cas? Think Sam will be up and at them before they know it?”

It had become a daily question, and Cas nodded. They both knew it was a lie. Sam would know too.

“Hear that, Cas thinks you’re on the mend, probably just putting it on for sympathy now aren’t ya? Making us look bad thinking the worst, you’ll be fine.” Dean said, striving for jovial and almost making it.

Sam twisted his lips in an attempt at a smile but shivered with cold, and Cas smoothed the pain lines from his forehead with gentle caresses.

Four days ago, Sam had found a slip in the demons restraints and made a play to take it down. The resulting tussle had seen Sam’s head have a quick and brutal meeting with the wall. The sickening crack had turned Cas’s stomach.

Later, once Sam was prostrate on the floor again and the demon had left, Sam broke into sobs. The words he said, kept saying over and over, still hung between them. Still stung like thorns any time Cas thought about them.

_“I can’t see, I can’t see.”_

His vision had returned in patches, but it was hazy, and weak, and he said the dark spots kept returning and growing bigger.

Done with Sam’s clean up Cas made short work of taking care of Dean, and then slowly carrying water in his hands for them to drink. The demon hadn’t brought food for a couple of days, but Cas kept them well watered.

He looked more critically at Dean’s back as Dean sipped water from his cupped hands. At any other time, in any other place, it would be mesmerising. The scrolling feathery burn scars overlaid with delicate swirling tattoos, they were horrific, but they were artistic. Dean’s lithe body laid out and elongated, held in striking poses and all for Cas’s eyes to see was always heartbreakingly lovely. It left Cas able to appreciate every piece of him, but it showed every place that Dean hurt too.

It made Cas hate the demon even more.

“Lost in thought there, buddy?”

Cas hummed again and pressed his face to Dean’s head. It was the closest he could come to a kiss.

Now, finally, they would allow him to try and make them feel better. They always insisted he cleaned them first, and he knew they needed to drink as much as possible to recoup lost blood volume, but he hated waiting.

It would be easy today, they were so close he could take care of them both at once. He slipped out of his now filthy pants, discarding them with a flick of his wrist and settled gingerly over Sam’s hips. He used a water wet hand to try and coax him to hardness. It was far from ideal but the only thing close to lubricant that they had. It was slow going, the pain kept overriding Sam’s arousal.

Cas looked at Dean for help, who winked. Cas lifted and cupped his hand and Dean spat into it twice, and if Cas had less pressing matters on his mind he'd feel insulted at what they were reduced to. But it helped, so he let it go.

“Come on, feel that Sam, feel how nice it is. Cas is all warm and ready for you, gonna make you float a little, yeah?”

He resumed his careful ministrations, now with a spit-slick fist and hummed, adding his low resonant voice to the mix. Sam relaxed a tiny amount, muscles giving out the fight of holding tension.

“Think about his mouth Sam, he’d have it on you right now, taking you deep, letting you thrust into him as rough as you like. Remember that? Remember how good with his tongue he is?”

Cas dutifully slipped a thumb over the slit of Sam’s cock, and trailed his long fingers in imitation around the length, finding the hot vein and following it.

“I’d kiss you too, not even let you breathe, not really. Always loved looking for gold in your mouth—”

“That’s not sexy,” Sam muttered.

“Mmm, maybe not.” Dean agreed.

They got Sam hard eventually, and Cas inched forward, careful of his wounds, and held his cock steady while he sank onto it.

“There you go,” Dean crowed. “Know how tight he is, can you feel that, Sam?”

Sam murmured.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, “Cas is he…?”

Cas felt for Sam’s pulse, and found it beating strong. He looked up, took Dean’s face in his hand, and touched his cheek to tap out the rhythm of Sam’s pulse so Dean could feel how steady it was.

Dean nodded, eyes closed in relief.

Cas leaned back, lifting his hand to Dean’s cock. It was only right that they should come together, and he worked hard to make sure they could. The endorphin rush would help with the pain.

He rode Sam with rolling hips, rising and falling so gently, careful not to jostle him or press on his wounds. Sam’s eyes flew open at the stimulation, blinking unseeing as he clung to the pleasure that drove away the pain.

Cas jacked Dean with sure and careful strokes, hands curled above his head to reach Dean’s hanging cock. Every quiet surge upwards let his hands encircle him, let him rock between the two of them and give them some peace.

It was always like this, day after day. He would tend to them as best he could, force an orgasm out of them no matter how wrung out and spent they were, no matter what they endured he was here. He would help, he would hold them, he couldn’t save or protect them from this, but he wouldn’t let them endure it alone.

It was the only good thing they had left, the only thing Cas could give them that meant anything. He loathed that they were reduced to doing it here, in stolen moments in between painful torture and abuse. But he held onto his hate and turned it into vengeance, like a piece of kindling he kept it alight, he’d turn it on this demon with the full force of his power when the time came.

When they got free, when they ended this, he would burn the skin from it’s bones and throw the filth back into the pit where it belonged.

 

* * *

 

 

When Jody, Donna, and the handful of hunters they’d roped in to help finally tracked them down and burst in to pull them back into the daylight, Cas kept his word.

It was a quick death, which it didn’t deserve, but he couldn’t dwell on it. As soon as the grace dampening contraption was cut from his face he glowed bright and strong and ended the demon’s existence.

But more importantly he quickly turned to the Winchester’s sides, and he lit them up with his grace to make them whole again.

When Sam finally opened his eyes, clear and bright as they should be, Cas smiled for the first time in weeks.

“Hey,” Sam said. “You look just as good as I remembered.”

“Thank you for staying strong, for staying with us.” Cas whispered, as he let tears slip down his cheeks. He didn’t need to be brave for them anymore.

“Thanks for giving me a reason to.” Sam replied. They kissed then, long and slow.

“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver? Get over here and gimme some of that!”

They both laughed, and walked shoulder to shoulder to Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I mixed dark and angst with sweet loving making, what a ride!
> 
> Please leave some comments or kudos and let me know what you thought, if you made it this far I'd love to know about it <3


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